Tony and the Gal Pals
by comicbooklovergreen
Summary: "Hey Peg, you here? You're never here early. Should I be worried?" Tony froze, looking to Peggy for direction. Only then did she think that perhaps she should've consulted Angie before absconding with Howard's child and bringing him to their home. Cartinelli fluff.
1. Chapter 1

"Peg, Maria's out of town. I need you to come over. Now."

Sitting forward in her desk chair. Peggy pressed two fingers to her temple, wondering what she'd done in a past life to deserve this. She glanced at her watch, wishing for the thousandth time since they'd started this little venture that Howard didn't have access to her private line. "Howard, I'm going to ask you a question, and I'm going to wish that I hadn't, but do try to answer honestly. It's not even noon yet. Bearing that in mind, how much have you had to drink today?"

He'd mostly stopped propositioning her a few years back. It wasn't even a holiday and, as far she knew, they hadn't saved the country recently, at least no more than usual. She couldn't think what would make him happy or inebriated enough to backslide.

"It isn't like that," he said, irritation clear in his voice.

Peggy narrowed her eyes. Whenever he took that particular tone, it meant that her day was about to get infinitely worse. "Then I suggest you tell me what it _is _like, Howard, because I'm waiting for a progress report on the operation in Argentina, and I'm expecting a call from the Vice President in—"

"Tony. It's Tony."

Peggy had her secretary reschedule that call.

She broke a few dozen traffic laws on her way to Howard's current mansion of choice, striding in without knocking. Her heels echoed loudly in the entryway. She was halfway up the ridiculously grand staircase when Howard met her, pausing on the landing.

"Peg—"

"It would be better if you didn't speak."

Howard listened. A strong indicator of how serious the situation was. She passed him on the stairs, navigating through the maze of hallways by memory, with him trailing behind like a shamed puppy. Peggy didn't need to see him to know that look he was wearing. She'd seen it too often over the last decade or so.

Tony's room was as she remembered, taken up by cables and circuit boards and half-finished projects. Howard's lab in miniature, except for the toy box and children's posters, and bookshelves that were divided almost equally between what one would expect a four-year-old to read, and thick tomes on advanced robotics.

Tony was in the middle of all this, propped up with a mass of pillows in a bed that was too big for him. Eyes closed, he lay in a tangle of blankets, a cast adorning his right arm. Peggy shot Howard a look before crossing to the boy, perching lightly on his mattress. Howard stayed in the doorframe, head low.

Running gentle fingers through his mop of dark hair, Peggy frowned as Tony Stark blinked himself awake. His eyes, always so sharp and mischievous, were clouded now, far away. It was whatever they'd given him for the pain, she knew that. And it reminded her of Howard when he was drunk, that dull, glazed expression. She made her lips turn up in a smile while her stomach twisted in anger and worry.

"Aunt Peggy?"

Tony's voice was small and rough, and if Howard were closer, Peggy would've smashed one of those hardcover robotics books over his head. "Hello, darling," she said instead, still combing through his hair.

"Dad didn't say you were visiting."

"I wasn't. But I heard you'd gotten yourself in a bit of a mess, Anthony." She said this teasingly, and Tony laughed. For reasons unknown, it'd always amused him when Peggy used his full name. He cringed if anyone else did so. Especially Howard.

"I fell," he explained, grinning as though it was something to be proud of.

"I noticed," said Peggy, abandoning his hair to tap red nails over his cast. "Well, if you wanted me over for a visit, there are better ways of achieving that goal."

"That's not why I did it," Tony argued, extending his lower lip for half a second before the grin returned. "I'm glad you're here, though."

"So am I, May I ask what you were doing?"

"Putting up a satellite. In the tree. The big one in back, but I fell. I broke my arm."

"So you did," Peggy agreed, not commenting on the ridiculousness of her godson erecting a homemade satellite in his backyard. Because for Tony, the idea made perfect sense.

"It would've worked. I know it would've. Well, I'm pretty sure."

"I'm certain it would've, Tony." Unlike Howard, Peggy paid enough attention to notice how brilliant the boy was. "Perhaps you should see about finding a way to cheat gravity, then you won't have to worry about falling."

"I'm working on it."

He wasn't joking. Peggy's smile went up to her eyes as she kissed his forehead. "Good boy," she murmured, standing up.

Tony fumbled in the blankets, grabbing at her arm. Awkward, since his dominant hand was in a cast. "You're leaving? You just got here."

It was somewhere between a whine and a plea, and Peggy kissed his head again, easing his fingers away and squeezing them lightly. "Not leaving. I'll be right back. In the meantime, you rest." She waited for Tony's nod before turning away, keeping her voice neutral as she spoke. "Howard. A word?"

She crossed back to him without waiting for a reply, watching from the hallway as he offered Tony a pained "You hang in there, pal."

Peggy turned from the scene, rolling her eyes. Howard had as much skill at talking to his son as Steve did when a female came within twenty yards of him. Thoughts of him brought back that old sting in her heart and behind her eyes. She forced it down as Howard closed Tony's door.

Peggy took a few quick, long steps down the hall, far enough that Tony wouldn't hear. Howard followed. And then she rounded on him, arm over his throat, driving him back against the wall. She did it at half-speed, but Howard still lost his breath.

"You are an idiot," she hissed, pressing slightly harder against his windpipe. "An absolute idiot. And every time I think I've discovered the depths of your idiocy, you surprise me. Congratulations, Howard, on still being able to do that after all these years."

"Peg, come on. You think I don't feel bad enough?"

It came out harsh, choked. Peggy let her arm drop, backing off slightly. "Not as bad as I'd make you feel if your son wasn't in the next room."

Howard sagged against the wall, the gray peppering his hair more noticeable than usual. "It was an accident, okay? Kids, they get into things, they get hurt."

It was, and they did. And if this had happened under Jarvis's watch (unlikely but not impossible), Peggy wouldn't be nearly this angry. "Tell me, Howard. Were you even attempting to watch him when this happened?"

He hadn't been watching when Tony, just learning to walk nearly tumbled down another long staircase to the very expensive, very hard flooring below. Or when she and Jarvis had to search the entire estate because Tony was gone and Howard had "Just looked away for a minute." Or ten. Or forty.

Howard fidgeted on the spot. "You know how much work I have."

"And what do you think SHIELD is for me? What do you think I should be doing now?"

"If you want to leave—"

"You know damn bloody well that's not what I'm saying. Where exactly are Maria and Jarvis?"

"We had an argument. She went off to…Morocco. Somewhere close to Morocco. Said she'd be back in a few days, assuming she could stand the sight of me by then."

Peggy sighed. "Jarvis?"

"She took him with her. Said I was lazy and dependent, and I needed to learn to handle Tony on my own."

"So pleased to see that you're proving her wrong," Peggy muttered. She didn't particularly blame Maria for leaving. If Howard were her husband, she would've fled the country a long time ago. And clearly his fathering skills needed honing. But doing it like this was tantamount to throwing an infant into the deep end of a lake and hoping the swimming instinct kicked in.

"I left him with toys," said Howard, gesturing weakly toward Tony's door. "You saw everything he's got in there, I told him to stay put. Just until I finished in the lab."

Peggy sighed again, gritting her teeth. "He is a _child _Howard. A child who, for better or worse, inherited your intelligence. Children who don't have IQ's in the one-fifties get bored easily. Where do you think that leaves him? When you were a child, were you able to 'stay put' on command? Can you even do that now?"

Howard said nothing, staring at his shoes.

"And 'just until you finished in the lab.' How long was that, exactly? How long did you leave him alone? How long were you locked downstairs behind all your soundproofed walls before you heard Tony screaming outside?"

"It wasn't that long, I swear. I came upstairs right before it happened. I'd just started searching the house when I heard him."

Peggy's eyes narrowed. Howard wasn't studying his footwear anymore, but he wasn't quite looking at her, either. She wasn't sure if it was shame or lies that kept his gaze away, wasn't sure she was prepared to find out. "Fine," she said, turning her back on him. "I'll be taking him with me when I leave, Call when Jarvis and Maria return."

"Take...? You're just going to take my son from my house?"

"Unless you plan on stopping me, yes. Or looking after him properly. I imagine he'll need help with food, dressing, bathing. Are you going to do that, Howard, considering that you couldn't spare a few hours for him when his arm wasn't broken?"

Howard breathed shakily, but didn't speak right away. "I'm sorry, Peg," he said as she moved away from him.

Halting, Peggy closed her eyes. "I know that, Howard. I always do. But I'm not the one you need to convince this time."

She was all smiles and cheer when she reentered Tony's room. "Right," she said, clapping her hands together. "How would you like to stay a few days with me?" Tony nodded hard enough that she worried he'd hurt himself, made excited exclamations. Then he looked past her, and Peggy knew that Howard was back to skulking in the doorway.

"Can I go, Dad?"

"Of course you can," Howard said after a pause lasting a bit too long. "A weekend with Aunt Peggy? I'm jealous."

He was trying to make light, sound like he had twenty years ago. Peggy scowled inwardly. She was enabling him and she hated it. Sure he felt horrible about Tony. So horrible that he'd barricade himself in the lab to distract from his failings. He'd get all his precious work done, escaping his responsibilities. She was doing him a favor, sparing him the consequences of his inaction. But she cared more about taking care of the son than punishing the father, so this was how it had to be.

"Right," she repeated, with false brightness that would put Dottie Underwood to shame. "Up you get. We'll need you packed and dressed, and it's much too late to be lazing about in bed."

Peggy moved with practiced efficiency. She wanted away from Howard as fast as possible. The man did try to help, but it soon became clear that he had no idea which of his son's clothes were where, or what toys Tony liked enough to bring with him. So Peggy took direction from the boy while Howard assisted by staying out of the way.

Despite what she'd said to get him moving, Peggy knew that Tony was exhausted. He was close to sleeping again by the time they were ready to leave, and didn't argue when she hoisted him into her arms.

"I can…"

Howard didn't finish the sentence. Peggy pictured Tony crumpled under that tree and tightened her hold. "I have him. You can take the suitcase if you wish to make yourself useful."

Howard did, stopping off before they went downstairs to grab a bottle of the pain meds that kept Tony so tired. He tucked them in a side pocket of the case and Peggy nodded acknowledgment.

At the car, Howard touched her shoulder, very lightly. She let him kiss Tony's hair, whisper a "Be good, pal." She thought she heard something else, so low she couldn't make it out, close as they were to each other. It could've been "I'm sorry." It could've been "I love you." It also could've been wishful thinking on her part.

Howard loaded the suitcase into her vehicle, offered another apology, thanked her. She nodded and drove, left him standing in the driveway. They were barely out of the gate before Tony, half-asleep in the backseat, spoke up.

"Aunt Peggy?"

"Darling?"

"Are you mad?"

All that false cheer for nothing, then. Veteran spy, director of SHIELD, caught out by a four-year-old. She considered lying, but she'd done that so often for so long that she preferred to avoid it when she could. "Not at you," she said. She watched Tony through the rearview mirror, unwilling to comment further, to badmouth Howard. He was a fool, but he was so much more than that. Even if he didn't show it much anymore. "So, tell me about this satellite of yours."

Tony did. Then he dozed off in the middle of his explanation, passion for his subject notwithstanding. Driving in silence, Peggy made herself recount the many, many times Howard had saved her life in one way or another.

Tony woke up just before they reached the home she normally wouldn't see for hours. He hadn't been here before. Howard liked meeting on his own turf, and Peggy liked keeping him away from hers. Specifically, she liked keeping him away from Angie. Not even he was foolish enough to pursue the younger woman after Peggy warned him off, but Howard was getting harder and harder to tolerate in a social setting. There'd been a specific incident that convinced Peggy he no longer deserved to be in Angie's presence, but she couldn't recall what that final straw was just now. Her mind veered off into other, more violent directions whenever she saw the whiteness of Tony's cast.

Tony wandered around inside, studying the place with interest. It wasn't the mansion Howard gifted them years ago, but it was big enough. Big enough for Angie to be comfortable without pacing endless, lonely corridors when Peggy was gone. In truth half the reason she'd taken the mansion in the first place was to impress Angie, not that she'd admitted it to herself at the time. Peggy felt better about moving on and finding their own space after realizing that she didn't actually need huge mansions to keep Angie interested.

She trailed Tony from the foyer into the living room, letting him explore. He was chattering on about how lucky it was that his satellite hadn't been damaged when the sound of a key unlocking the front door hit Peggy's ears, followed by Angie's familiar tones.

"Hey Peg, you here? You're never here early. Should I be worried?"

Tony froze, looking to Peggy for direction. Only then did she think that perhaps she should've consulted Angie before absconding with Howard's child and bringing him to their home.

"No need to worry," she said, listening as Angie dropped her heels on the hardwood floor. "I've just invited a young man to spend some time with us."

Angie's footsteps, muted without the shoes, were still audible as she crossed the foyer. "Well jeez, English. I guess I get it if you're feeling nostalgic. I'll try not to take it personally, anyway but shouldn't we have talked about this first? Oh."

Peggy cleared her throat as Angie entered the room. Tony had scampered to her a moment ago, and she put her hands on his shoulders as Angie took in the scene. "Angie, you remember Tony."

To Angie's credit, the surprise on her face melted away remarkably fast. "Yeah, of course. What happened to you, buddy? Please tell me the other guy's got two broken arms."

"I'm afraid not," Peggy said, squeezing Tony's shoulders as he looked up at her "'The other guy' was a rather tall tree on Howard's estate. Tony, this is Angie. You've met her before, but it's been a long time."

Angie bent slightly, getting closer to Tony's level. "I was at your first birthday. You threw up on me."

She said this in that bright, conversational way of hers, but Peggy still felt Tony's small frame cringe under her hands.

"Don't you feel bad about it though," Angie continued. "You were just a baby. Your dad puked on me too that day, and he didn't have any kind of excuse."

Ah. Now Peggy remembered why she made such efforts to keep Angie and Howard separated when possible. "Maria and Mr. Jarvis are away at the moment, and Howard's agreed to let me borrow Tony for a bit. If you don't mind."

They had a short, silent conversation. Peggy held her gaze until Angie broke the contact, eyes flashing as she looked at Tony's cast. Then she was nothing but warmth as she spoke again.

"Mind? You kidding? Long as you come and say hi to me, the more the merrier."

Tony held still, stayed quiet. Peggy felt like cursing. She'd seen the boy doing magazine interviews and TV segments with Howard for years now. The latest was a disgustingly trite Christmas special, home for the holidays with America's favorite family, or some such rubbish. Tony was funny and charming as he stood next to Howard, the two of them discussing favorite Christmas traditions. Angie had laughed while Peggy sipped her bourbon and tried not to glare. She knew Tony, knew from the tone and the words that Howard was speaking through his son's mouth.

Tony _was _funny and charming. With her, or Jarvis, or Maria. With strangers, and without Howard over his shoulder he turned into the silent bundle of nerves standing in her living room.

Sometimes Peggy hated her old friend almost as much as she loved him.

"It's fine," she murmured close to Tony's ear. "I've told you about Angie, haven't I? Go say hello."

Tony hesitated a moment more, then did as he was told, crossing to Angie and shaking the hand she offered.

If Angie was bothered by Tony's continued silence, she didn't show it. "So, fell out of a tree, huh? Happened to me once, when I was a little older than you. Well, it was more like I got pushed outta a tree, but you know. Details."

"Who pushed you? Why?" Tony asked, cautiously curious.

"It was my cousin Marco. Third cousin actually, which you would think meant I wouldn't have to see him much, but no such luck. Italians and their big Sunday dinners. He did it because he's a jerk, but it's okay. I pushed him down a fire escape the next summer, so we're even. You like manicotti?"

"Maybe?" Tony replied. "What is it?"

Angie widened her eyes, addressing Peggy over Tony's shoulder. "What has Mr. Fancy been feeding this kid, Pegs?"

"Whatever the cook serves, I imagine."

"Probably snails, something equally crazy. You hungry, Tony? Go into the kitchen," Angie said, indicating the direction with her hand, "and we'll get you some real food."

Tony glanced back at Peggy, got a nod in return, and smiled hesitantly as he did as Angie said. Once he was out of earshot, Angie stood to her full height. Stepping close to Peggy, she kept her voice low and serious.

"Okay Peg, first thing's first. Did you go and do something rash, like murder Howard Stark and toss the corpse in his pool?"

"Don't be absurd. I would never leave a body in such an open area. The cellar, perhaps. I could make it look like one of the shelves fell on top of him."

"Right," said Angie, taking Peggy's hand in hers and examining the knuckles. "You slug him then?"

"Why do you assume that my reaction was violent?" Angie raised an eyebrow and Peggy released a breath. "I pushed him. I may have choked him. Slightly."

"Good for you, English Just as long as he didn't enjoy it."

"Oh for God's sake."

"What? You know how many pictures and magazines and creepy film reels I found at the old place? And that was after Mr. Fancy promised he cleaned everything out. I know more than I'd ever want to about what gets Howard going."

Another reason they'd eventually left the Stark house. "I'm sorry about this. But Tony got hurt because Howard was locked in his own world, as usual. He's completely incapable of looking after himself without Jarvis or Maria, never mind Tony. I would've asked first, but—"

Peggy was cut off by Angie's lips on hers. The kiss was faster than she would've liked, but it was deep and distracting, and it kept her silent when Angie pulled back to grin at her. "You're talking too much. I've been home five whole minutes and you haven't given me a proper hello. So I took it myself, hope you don't mind."

"Never," Peggy murmured, smiling and tangling her fingers with Angie's. "And please, darling, forgive my manners. I've been distracted since Howard called about Tony, and I'm afraid I'm not used to _greeting you _in front of an audience."

"So, you don't wanna explain about the birds and the bees and the violets to a four-year-old? I'm shocked."

Peggy smiled wryly. She'd been fielding questions from Howard regarding her and Angie's sex life for more years than she cared to think about. She wasn't prepared to start doing it with Tony. "Are you upset?"

Angie waved the question off with an expansive hand gesture. "Nah. We've been playing gal pals to most everyone for how long now? What's one more?"

Gal pals indeed. "You're certain this is all right?"

"Peg, I didn't throw a fit when you invited a Russian spy to crash our movie date, did I? And Tony's family, right? We do for family."

"He is. But to be fair, Dottie invited herself, I didn't know she was a spy at the time, and I certainly didn't know that trip to the cinema was meant to be a date."

"Yeah. Pretty clueless back then, weren't you? Good thing you managed to wise up. Took you long enough."

"It did, and you were kind enough to wait. You're far too good to me, Angie." Peggy held Angie's gaze, communicating her sincerity.

"Too true," Angie replied, pressing a brief kiss to Peggy's mouth. "Now, that kid is way too thin. I'm gonna go feed him, make sure he doesn't think too hard about his dad being a moron." Angie spun gracefully on her heel, took a few steps toward the kitchen, then stopped, half-turning to look at Peggy.

"Love, what is it?" There was an expression of muted horror twisting Angie's features, and Peggy had no idea how it got there.

"What is it? I'm solving problems with pasta, wanting to fatten up children I barely know. I'm turning into my mother, Peg."

Peggy tried to hold in her laughter, failing for the most part.

"Oh shut up," Angie grumbled. "I saw a suitcase in the foyer. Shouldn't we do something about that?"

"We meaning me?"

"Well, it's not like I can trust you with lunch, right? Kid's got a busted arm, wouldn't want him getting food poisoning too. Or puking on me again."

"Of course not," Peggy said as her lover walked away.

Angie Martinelli was the only one on earth who could tell Peggy to cart off luggage without facing dire consequences. In fact, Peggy complied with the order rather happily as she listened to Angie talk with her godson in the next room.


	2. Chapter 2

Peggy had a theory, one she'd never had cause to doubt. Her theory was that Angie Martinelli could win over anyone with half a brain and half a soul. After setting up the guestroom for Tony, Peggy returned downstairs to find that, again, said theory had proved correct.

Angie had followed through on her promise of food, and Peggy tried not to grimace. All that cheese and marinara wasn't meant to be eaten with one's weaker hand, but the plaster surrounding Tony's right arm took away any choice in the matter. Angie had taken the time to cut the pasta up for him, but he was still making quite the mess. And inhaling his food like a starved refugee. "I take it he approves."

"Oh leave him alone, Peggy," Angie said, settling down with her own plate. "He's never been treated to Ma's recipe before, don't ruin the experience. Anyway, he probably has to do all that prim and proper salad fork on the left, butter knife on the right stuff when he eats at home. Right, Tony?"

Tony nodded vigorously, making an agreeable noise around a mouthful of pasta and garlic bread.

Peggy bit back the urge to ask when the boy last ate. She could play it off as a joke, but knowing how lax Howard could be about basic needs, she was afraid of the answer. "Yes well, we'll forego all the unnecessary cutlery while you're here, darling, but do keep in mind the importance of chewing."

Angie scoffed without trying to hide it. "You're one to talk. Remember, I served you lots of meals at the L&amp;L. You shoulda seen it, Tony. Aunt Peggy here comes in all stiff and British. You live with Jarvis, you know what I mean."

Tony nodded again, small cheeks bulging as he tried to swallow.

"Right, so all elegant and British. So I say hi, get a listen to that accent, and I think, this lady is too classy to be real. Or at least too classy to come into this dump of a diner. And I'm a little intimidated, you know? But then I serve her the pie she wanted, and what happens? She sucks it up like a vacuum cleaner. And I realize hey, this lady's human too. You'd have to be, stuffing your face in public like that."

"I think that equating me to a vacuum cleaner is a bit of an overstatement. Besides, you'd eat quickly too if you never knew when your next meal would be. Or if you'd be able to enjoy it without getting shot at."

"Hey, I ain't saying you don't have good reasons, I'm just saying."

"Brilliant. Thank you for clearing that up."

"Oh stop being all grumpy and English, English. Grab a plate and pull up a chair."

Peggy worked very hard not to smile. "Not terribly hungry, I'm afraid. I did have that bagel this morning."

"Bagel schmagel," was Angie's response as she pointed a sauce-stained fork at Peggy. "Sit down and eat, will you? All this food and you want to let it go to waste?"

Giving up her battle, Peggy did as instructed, smirking as she passed Angie on her way to the table. "By the way, Angie, Sofia called last night. Sorry I forgot to mention."

The remark had the desired effect. Somewhat impressively, Angie managed to choke and glare at the same time while Peggy cut very delicately and very deliberately into her food. She'd never once managed to leave the Martinelli house without eating her weight in pasta first, and the only times Sofia. Martinelli got truly cross with her were when she tried to decline those meals.

Turning into her mother indeed.

Angie played angry with her for approximately ten seconds before turning her attention to Tony, requesting the details of his fall. She displayed genuine interest in the aborted satellite setup, and Peggy savored her unexpected lunch, content to watch the other two. That Angie was good with children didn't surprise her, she'd seen the actress with plenty of nieces and nephews. But Tony wasn't a relative, and he wasn't terribly boisterous like the rest of the Martinelli clan. He required a certain kind of attention, and Angie seemed able to provide that without thought. She was definitely more of a natural than Peggy, who'd initially balked at the idea of being appointed godmother "To keep me from screwing up too much."

Howard's words, spoken from Maria's bedside as he held his son out to Peggy with an impossibly hopeful expression. That statement, only half-joking, seemed tragically prophetic now.

Peggy was drifting to places she'd rather not be when Angie squeezed her knee under the table. The contact was brief, there and gone. So was Angie's gaze as it caught Peggy's. She didn't stop her conversation with Tony, and Peggy didn't need her to. Her free hand grazed Angie's knee in return, in silent thanks.

She tuned in again, properly, blocking Howard from her mind. Then almost wished she hadn't, because Angie's new tactic for keeping Tony in good spirits was to describe in vivid detail her own list of childhood injuries.

"So, every kid in my neighborhood was at that game," Angie said as they were finishing their meal. "And I don't even like baseball that much, but my fathead brother kept runnin his mouth about how girls can't play. So I hit a homerun, just to shut him up, and I'm rounding the bases, ready to rub it in his face, when I feel this pain in my foot. And whatever it is, it hurts like hell—"

Peggy cleared her throat.

"Heck," Angie said, giving Peggy a look without losing the flow of her story. "But I keep movin, 'cause I really wanna get that run and piss Frankie off—"

Peggy cleared her throat again.

"And I slide into home," Angie continued, not acknowledging the interruption this time, "and only after do I find out that this rusty nail went right through my shoe. I take it off and there's blood everywhere, just gushing!"

Angie's usual dramatic recitation made it seem like she'd lost half her life's blood that day, Peggy worried her lower lip, knowing she'd have to reapply her lipstick. She'd heard the story before, and it wasn't among her favorites. Well, except for the bit about Angie fighting through life threatening blood loss to prove a point to her brother. The blood loss itself, the thought of Angie in pain, that was the part Peggy hated.

Tony, totally enthralled, countered with his own tales of injury. The ones about the supercharged tricycle and the prototype robot gone bad, they made a muscle in her jaw twitch, but they weren't news. She didn't get truly uncomfortable until Tony recounted a recent incident with his chemistry set, He wasn't calling it mustard gas, maybe it wasn't _exactly _mustard gas, but the substance he described was close enough that Peggy welcomed the out when the phone in her study rang.

Only a Stark child could show such enthusiasm for accidental exposure to mustard gas. Peggy hoped that the excitement Angie displayed in return was a typically stellar acting job.

Five minutes into the call, Peggy wished she'd stuck around to hear about her loved ones maiming themselves. She made apologies whenever there was a pause in the ranting, meaning none of them. This wasn't the first time she'd dropped everything to help a Stark, and it wouldn't be the last. But it was for Tony, so she kept on apologizing, feigning regret until the man at the other end was out of breath, making her escape as soon as possible.

When she did manage to get away, Angie had cleared the lunch plates, and moved to the living room. She and Tony were sprawled on the floor, huddled with one of Angie's scripts between them. Peggy took the opportunity to observe, her frustration with the call dissipating rapidly.

"See, you read Torvald's lines, and I read Nora's. Then I can remember them during rehearsal, and hopefully not embarrass myself."

"Rehearsal?"

"Yeah. That's where I read my lines in front of the director, and he tells me all about how I'm doing it wrong."

Tony nodded with an understanding Peggy didn't like. She looked on, silently damning Howard.

"Torvald's a dumb name," Tony declared, like he was stating something irrefutable.

"Yeah, lots of the ones in these old plays are. You wanna hear a really dumb name? Arlene French."

"Who?"

"Arlene. She beat me out for this part a few years back in some off-Broadway joke of a production. All smug about it, too. Well, guess which one of us got the job _on _Broadway, and which is still doing voiceovers for toothpaste commercials. Off-brand toothpaste too, not even the good stuff. Her teeth are probably falling out of her head by now."

Unable to hold back any longer, Peggy spoke up, alerting the other two to her presence. "Not that Angie isn't a graceful winner, of course."

Angie's supremely adult response was to stick her tongue out at Peggy.

"How do you always talk that fast without breathing in between?" Tony asked, wearing an awed expression as he studied Angie.

Peggy didn't even try to stop the bark of laughter that escaped.

"It's a skill," Angie said, pretending the Englishwoman wasn't snickering at her. "I'll teach you, if you want."

"Yes, please."

Shaking her head, Peggy forced herself to break the moment. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this entertained. "Later, perhaps. Tony, I'm afraid I have to steal your leading lady for a moment."

"'Kay," Tony said, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

"Won't be a sec," Angie said, ruffling his hair as she stood. "Check out the next act while I'm gone, will you? I'll need help with that one later."

Tony agreed, stupid names aside. Angie followed Peggy back to her study before speaking.

"For the record, I'm your leading lady, not his, so stealing me is never necessary. He is adorable though, Peg, a hell of a lot nicer than my brother's oldest brat."

"You adore Vince's oldest brat. And I wouldn't be so sure about you and Tony. I believe the boy's a little taken with you."

"You always think that everyone is _taken_ with me, English."

"That's because everyone with any taste is."

"You're just worried I'll snatch up your Cool Aunt Peggy title."

"My what?"

"I'm turning into the fun one, and you're feeling threatened. Admit it, Agent Carter."

"Director Carter, darling. Unfortunately, that's the problem just now."

Angie's teasing smile dimmed. "Yeah, I noticed you were in here for a while. Was hoping you were just trying to get out of doing the dishes. So what's up?"

Peggy sighed. "Nothing too dire, I promise. However, I was supposed to have a discussion with the Vice President this morning, and he's rather displeased that I cancelled."

Angie's eyes went wide. "You blew off the Vice President?"

"Not exactly the phrasing I would use."

"That's who you were on the phone with for twenty minutes?"

"Only twenty? It felt quite a bit longer on my end."

"Wait, the Vice President has our home number?"

"The private one in the study, yes."

"Has he called here before?"

"On occasion. Angie—"

"I can't believe this. How long has that guy had our number?"

"Since he was elected, I suppose. Angie, love, I'd prefer if you didn't answer that particular line."

"I know that, English, jeez. Wait, you sayin I couldn't handle talking to him?"

Peggy smiled. "Quite the opposite, darling. I'm not confident our VP could survive a conversation with you."

"Nice save. I wouldn't wanna gab with him anyway. If you're gonna have a conversation, make sure it's with the guy who's really in charge, right?"

"Indeed. The next time the President calls for a chat, I'll send him straight to you. In the meantime though, I'm wanted back at headquarters, and Tony…"

"Don't sweat it, Peggy, I'll take care of him."

"But your rehearsal—"

Angie shrugged off the protest. "I'll take him along. Kid needs some culture anyway. All those robots and chemicals without any theater? It's not good for him."

"And your director won't be upset?"

"Eh, he's always upset about something or other. He'll moan and groan for a minute, then go back to yelling at Sandy about her posture, like usual. It'll be fine."

And, for roughly the millionth time, Peggy Carter fell in love with Angie Martinelli.

"You're not to make a racket," she said a few minutes later adjusting her coat and pushing aside a stray curl. "Do as Angie says and be patient, all right?"

"I'll be good, promise," Tony replied accepting the hug Peggy stooped to give him.

"I know, darling." Punctuating the word with a brief kiss to Tony's cheek, Peggy stood tall again, walking the few steps to the door, and Angie. "I'll meet you afterwards at the theater, barring unexpected catastrophes. Call if there are any problems."

"There won't be problems. He's with Cool Aunt Angie, we'll have a great time."

"I refuse to acknowledge you when you use that title."

"And yet you just acknowledged me."

Angie almost kissed her then. Peggy nearly allowed it, unused to playing platonic within their home. Then she saw Tony from the corner of her eye, quietly watching them. Angie seemed to remember their guest at precisely the same moment, because they both turned their cheeks to the other, and the result was patently awkward.

"Yes well," Peggy stammered as Tony stared at them. "I'll see you both later. Break a leg, Angie."

As she left, Peggy thought she heard her lover whisper more of that cool aunt nonsense, and shook her head.

* * *

Thankful for small mercies, Peggy headed into the back entrance of the theater only five minutes later than she'd hoped. Navigating through hallways she wasn't strictly meant to be in, she noted the lack of noise from the main stage. Rehearsal over then, Angie must've been packing up her things.

As she neared the dressing rooms, Peggy heard the unmistakable sounds of many women congregating in one place. Angie's dressing room, as it turned out, was packed to bursting. Peggy was fairly sure the production couldn't possibly have this many female cast members, but she guessed most of them worked behind the scenes. She had to crane her neck to see past the gaggle of women, and then had to smirk in amused exasperation.

Tony occupied the chair by Angie's dressing table. The ladies were fawning and exclaiming over him as if they'd lived their whole lives without seeing a male child until this one glorious night. Pushing her way through the throng, Peggy saw that Tony's cast, a mass of white when she left, was now covered in signatures, tiny drawings and, in several cases, lipstick prints. It took her a moment to find Angie in the crowd, hearing the woman before she saw her.

"Back off, Ellen, my God. He's a kid, not a monkey, quit pettin at him and go have one of your own if you're that desperate."

"But Ang, I can't afford to be out of the game for nine months, then have to lose baby weight too."

"That's not his problem, Elle. Give the kid some room before he suffocates from all that perfume you're doused in!"

Oddly warmed by Angie's protective instinct, Peggy decided it was time to offer backup. Speaking with the voice that once held hundreds of soldiers at bay at Camp Lehigh, she made herself heard over the commotion. "All right ladies, time to disperse! I'm sure you're all exhausted from your service to the arts tonight, and the man of the hour has a bedtime. So please, if you would." Peggy indicated the door.

There was a collective groan. Peggy smiled a bit, remembering the gaggle of women who'd followed Steve around during those ridiculous USO tours. Some of the departing ladies greeted her, and she answered politely. A petite brunette, Laura, Peggy recalled, halted in front of her.

"Hey Peggy, can you believe it? I got Tony Stark's autograph! That kid's on TV all the time, all kinds of magazines. I'll be rich off this one day!"

Laura produced a crumpled bit of paper with a signature that wasn't close to legible. Tony's writing was remarkably good for someone his age, but not when his writing hand was in a cast. "Did you?" Peggy drawled, annoyed that this woman saw her godson as a meal ticket. "Splendid. If you'll excuse me, Lorraine."

"It's Laura," the brunette corrected as Peggy strode in the other direction.

"Is it?" Peggy replied, not waiting for an answer. By then the room was near empty. Peggy was dodging the last few stragglers and returning the smile Angie gave her when a forty pound missile launched itself at her.

"Aunt Peggy!"

She had just enough time to open her arms and brace before Tony was on her, good arm wrapping around her neck. His hair was a mess, doubtless from being ruffled by countless strange women, and Peggy smoothed it down with one hand, letting him burrow into the space between her neck and shoulder. "Missed me, did you?"

"Uh-huh," said Tony, pulling away back enough to look at her. "But Angie was really good. Really, really good."

"She always is," Peggy murmured, taking the last few steps to the woman in question.

"You're biased, English, and he hasn't seen enough theater to know the difference."

"Well, we can be thankful that he's seeing only the best for his first experience then."

"I'm still not giving you the cool aunt title, so you can quit trying to butter me up." The actress's gaze shifted to Tony, who still clung to Peggy. "Sorry about the madhouse there, buddy. Those girls, they see a cute kid and their brains fall out."

Tony shrugged, but his eyes were down, and Peggy instinctively tightened her hold. "Tony, darling. Are you all right?"

He shrugged again, but met her gaze this time. "I wouldn't mind it so much. Dad's always making me talk to strangers, and they always get excited, like they know me. But they don't, and they don't want to. They only care about Dad. Or his work, or his money."

"Tony," Angie murmured, eyes soft, "I'm sure that's not true."

In response, Tony raised his injured arm. Amidst the mess of handwriting, Peggy saw what he wanted her to. A woman named Hope, whom she'd met in passing while waiting for Angie one night, had written her phone number on the cast. Next to it, encased with a heart, was an entreaty for Howard to call her sometime.

And how was she to argue with an extremely perceptive boy who had _that _scrawled across his arm?

There was a pained silence during which Tony squirmed in her arms and Peggy let him go. Reluctantly. Red nails cut into her palms as she thought about Hope. The woman must have an understudy. Everyone had an understudy in these things, didn't they? Angie's play wouldn't seriously be affected if Hope were to suffer an unfortunate accident. A broken arm, perhaps. Or leg. One of each, to even things up.

"Listen bud," said Angie. "You know how I said some girls lose their minds when they see a cute kid? Well that one never had a mind to begin with. She's dumb as dirt, with just as much acting skill. So don't you think about her, 'cause she ain't worth it."

"If she can't act, then how'd she get in your play?"

Angie opened her mouth and Peggy gave her a look. She'd already heard Angie's complaints about Hope, and just as she didn't want to explain her sexual proclivities to Tony, she also didn't want him hearing about D-grade actresses who slept with producers.

"Dumb people, dumb luck," Angie said, apparently getting the point.

The silence stretched. Lacking a better option, Peggy fell back on that false smile she'd used at Howard's place. "So, Anthony, care to escort us home? I'm sure Angie's got a frightening amount of leftovers stowed away that you didn't get to try this afternoon."

Angie grumbled something about how it wasn't her fault her mother only knew how to cook for an army, and how Peggy should be happy about that, since she used to be _in _the army, and at least she wasn't living on rations anymore, so show some gratitude. Tony grinned catching Peggy's hand, letting her lead him from the room.

Peggy asked the both of them about their day, and Tony spoke of the costumes and the sets, and how Angie was great, even if the characters in the play had stupid names and talked funny. Angie kept up her end of the conversation, exuding her usual warmth, but Peggy noticed that her lover seemed to fight off a glare every time she caught sight of Hope's signature on Tony's cast.

* * *

Much later, Peggy sat on her living room couch with pen and notepad in hand, and Tony leaning in to read with her. After stuffing him full of Italian cuisine, Angie had disappeared to another part of the house. Shortly after that, Peggy was forced to turn a mildly amusing cartoon show up to an extremely high volume to drown out the sound of cursing, both English and Italian. Angie had apparently thought it necessary to call Hope and discuss the evening's incident. Leaving Tony in front of the TV for a few minutes, Peggy got close enough to hear Angie's side of the conversation.

Hope probably would've had an easier time of it if Peggy had handled things herself and broken the girl's arm.

Tony, whose mind worked too quickly to be hypnotized by a television for long, got restless shortly after the cursing stopped. Peggy's solution was to give him a basic tutorial in codebreaking. Creating a simple cipher off the top of her head, Peggy watched his frown of concentration as he puzzled it out, filling in the letters for him as he went.

Angie asked him repeatedly if he actually found this enjoyable. Once satisfied that he did, she'd shaken her head at Peggy and Tony both, referring to them as "crazy braniacs" before leaving the room.

"I'm stuck," Tony announced after nearly fifteen minutes of silence.

Peggy glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. "It's getting late, you're probably tired as well."

When he looked at her, Tony's expression was almost frantic. "I'm not tired, I can get it."

Peggy sighed. "I've no doubt you can, but it's just an exercise, you know, and it will still be here tomorrow."

"I can get it now, though."

Peggy shut her eyes a moment. _I can find it, Peg, I can find the plane. We need to find him, you know that. _Sometimes it scared her, how much Tony resembled Howard. "Ten more minutes. If it's not finished by then, we'll have something to do in the morning. Understood?"

It was, so she helped him, went back until they'd caught his error. It didn't take long. He was smart, he should've been happy, but he kept frowning at the corrected paper until Peggy, very gently, pressed him about it.

"Dad wouldn't make mistakes. He wouldn't get stuck."

Peggy nearly snapped the pencil she was holding. "Your father makes mistakes, Tony, the same as anyone."

"That's not what everyone else says."

She could only assume that 'everyone else' meant the press, the people at Stark Industries, who made their living by reaffirming Howard's belief in his own brilliance. "They don't know him as well as they'd have you believe."

Tony's look was skeptical. He rarely questioned the truth of anything she told him, though he was apt to question most anything else. Then he was staring at that page again, as if his entire existence hinged on unlocking its secrets. And the pose was so very _Howard_ so focused on all the wrong things, that something in Peggy threatened to break apart.

"Tony." Peggy touched his cast as she spoke. Angie had scratched out Hope's signature along with a few others. In their place, she'd drawn an elaborate comic strip revolving around the adventures of a stray dog she'd known in Queens. Peggy cracked a smile at the simple yet painstaking artwork. Tony glanced at her, glanced at the cast with his own smile, and would've gone back to staring at the page if Peggy hadn't touched his cheek, tilting his face up to look at her. "Those people at the theater today." She paused, because he hadn't mentioned it all night, and he seemed very close to pulling away from her, but didn't. Her gut uncoiled a bit at that, and she held his eyes as she spoke. "There will be a lot of people like that. I wish that weren't true, but it is. But Tony, you're more than Howard's son. You're sweet and kind and so, so brilliant all on your own. Anyone who bothered to look would see that right away. And the people who don't care enough to look, they don't matter. What they think doesn't matter. There are plenty of people who know exactly how special you are. Me, your mother, Jarvis, Angie—"

"Dad doesn't think that."

Damn Howard. Damn him to bloody hell. "He does. He can't always show it, but he does think it."

Tony looked very much like he wanted to argue that point. Instead he breathed out, studied the ceiling for a moment, then let his head fall to Peggy's shoulder, squirming until they were closer together. "I'm not sleeping," he declared, eyes dropping closed. "I'm still going to solve it, I'm just thinking for a minute."

"All right," Peggy murmured, recognizing his roundabout way of telling her to drop it. Wrapping an arm around small shoulders, she set the pencil and pad on the couch next to her. They spent a few minutes like that, Tony using her as an impromptu pillow. She was thinking she'd have to carry him to bed when he spoke up, surprising her.

"Aunt Peggy?"

"Tony."

"Do you not kiss Angie because you're British?"

Peggy nearly jumped out of her skin. Not the best response, since Tony was still using her to stay upright. His eyes were open again, innocent and curious, and she tried not to stare too incredulously at him. "What…what was that, darling?"

"You and Angie. You love her, right? And you were going to kiss her, because you love her, right? Before you left? You could've, I wouldn't have minded."

Peggy opened her mouth several times. "I…I love Angie, do I?"

Tony frowned in that concentrated way of his, like she was asking a trick question and he needed to be careful with his reasoning. "You act like it. She acts like it."

Peggy chuckled, half-hysterically. "Well, yes. But tell me, in your vast experience on the subject, how do people in love act?"

"Like Anna and Jarvis. He loves her a lot, and she's really nice to me, like Angie is. And I figure if he loves her, he must want to kiss her, but he never does, not in front of me, anyway. I asked him why, and he said it was a British thing. So is it a British thing with you and Angie?"

Peggy, uncharacteristically stunned, took longer than she should've to answer. "I…yes. Yes, it's a British thing."

"Oh. Well you guys can kiss when I'm here. It's not gross or anything."

Peggy blinked. Repeatedly. "That's very kind of you, Tony. You don't have any…questions?"

That thinking frown came back a moment, then Tony shook his head. "Will you help me finish?" he asked, gaze on the discarded code page. "I think I'm stuck again."

Peggy nodded, then forced her vocal cords to work. "Of course," she said, taking up the pad and pencil. "Of course, Tony."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay, guys. First there was Daredevil hitting Netflix, then I was away at a comic con. Then I met Hayley at said con, and my brain's been pretty useless since then. This is the final chapter, thanks for sticking around, any kind of feedback would be madly appreciated.

* * *

Peggy woke up too early, not immediately sure why. The clock on the nightstand informed her that dawn was a few hours off. She lay still a moment, trying to understand what had pulled her out of sleep. She felt more than saw what the problem was, confirming it when she rolled to her side, feeling along the sheets in the darkened room. Angie wasn't next to her.

She had a split second of panic, What if someone had taken Angie? And Tony, he was here, too. Then she made herself breathe, think. Squaring her shoulders, she swung out of bed, resisting the urge to get her gun from the drawer.

If Tony went home with a story about Aunt Peggy nearly shooting him on his way back from the bathroom, her position as the steady, responsible one in his life would be in serious doubt.

Opening the bedroom door, she let out a controlled breath when she saw Angie down the hall, outside of the guestroom. Assured that combat wasn't an immediate necessity, Peggy backtracked long enough to grab her robe, then traced Angie's path over the hardwood. She was leaning against the doorframe, watching Tony sleep. Peggy cleared her throat as she approached, softly. She'd been silent about opening the bedroom door, and knew Angie wasn't aware of her presence.

Also, Angie had yelled at her quite a few times for being too damn quiet and scaring the living daylights out of her, and make a little noise because she's navigating their home, not sneaking into enemy territory.

Old habits.

Angie half-turned, but Peggy was faster, wrapping her arms around her from behind, before she could move. "You worried me," she said, whispering it close to Angie's ear. "Everything all right?"

By everything, she mostly meant Tony, and apparently Angie knew that. "No worryin, didn't mean to scare you. He's fine, out like a light. I just woke up, thought I'd make sure. The arm coulda been givin him trouble, and sometimes kids have trouble sleepin in new places anyway."

Peggy made an agreeable noise. Angie hadn't bothered with a robe, shoulders bare in her nightgown. Peggy kissed one of those shoulders, warmed again by Angie's concern for Tony. And by the way her New York accent thickened when she was tired.

They stood in silence for a moment, Peggy swaying gently, feeling Angie relax in her hold. She was almost surprised when Angie's voice hit her ears, lost as she'd been in the quiet, the feel of Angie under her hands.

"You still act like I'm gonna leave sometimes. I'm not, I wouldn't. I wish you knew that."

Sighing, Peggy breathed in the scent of Angie's curls. "I know you wouldn't. Not by choice."

Angie went still, then reached back with one hand, skimming her fingers across Peggy's cheek. "Right here, English. So is Tony. No one's leaving, everyone's safe."

Peggy studied Tony over Angie's shoulder, kissing it again as acknowledgment and thank you. He lay on his side, facing them. A ray of moonlight filtered n through the curtains, illuminating his features. He looked content, relaxed. His own age, which didn't always happen. He looked like Howard, in better times.

Tony at his best, when his mind was racing with some new idea and his eyes glinted and he bubbled over with excitement he couldn't contain, he was the spitting image of Howard in his prime. When the elder Stark would grin ear to ear, showing off a new toy to trip up the enemy. A new kind of armor, ten times stronger than the last. A new shield for Steve. Steve, who would always grin right back in that charming, boyish way of his, because Howard was his friend, and the happiness of friends pleased him immensely.

Peggy couldn't speak or look at Howard without thinking of Steve. Sometimes the reminder was much stronger than others, but it was always there. Howard, the Commandos, Phillips, they all linked back to Steve. And Howard didn't smile like that anymore, didn't flash that grin that was so uninhibited, perhaps a little manic. He hadn't smiled like that since Steve went into the ocean.

Tony still did, still had that enthusiasm for life and learning, untampered by loss or perceived failures. Peggy was terrified that Howard would rob his son of that look, that she'd have to fall back into memories if she wished to see it again.

Steve would've loved Tony.

"It's nice havin someone else in the house. Reminds me of bein a teenager, my younger cousins comin to stay."

Closing her eyes, Peggy held Angie tighter, using her body and voice as an anchor. Angie knew she was troubled, always seemed to know. But she wasn't requiring anything of her. She'd always asked for so little and given so much, and she acted like it was nothing. "Thank you."

Angie shifted, meeting Peggy's eyes as best she could. "What for?"

"Being here," Peggy replied. "Even when I've given you ample reason not to."

Angie made a dismissive noise. "You goin soft on me, Peg? Thought you Brits weren't supposed to show that you have real human feelings."

"My apologies. Forgot myself, must be the early hour. Please don't tell the Queen, I could be permanently exiled from the homeland."

Stifling a chuckle, Angie brushed her lips to the corner of Peggy's mouth. "Think I proved I'm pretty good at keepin your secrets. Now let's get to bed before all this sappiness wakes the kid up."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

When she reluctantly answered the call of her alarm, Peggy was alone again. There was no rush of fear this time though, because Angie and Tony's voices were audible from downstairs. Where she'd normally be up and out of bed the minute the clock demanded it, Peggy kept still a few seconds, let her eyes stay closed. It was nice, listening to the people she loved laughing, the muted clang of pans. Angie must've been making breakfast. Finally, she pulled herself free of the covers, shrugged into her robe as she had a few hours ago, and made her way downstairs.

The scent of eggs and French toast spurred her on long before she reached the kitchen. There she found Angie manning the stove and Tony waiting at the table. Throwing quick glances over her shoulder at Tony, Angie was explaining about her uncle Vinnie and how he "Made money on other people who bet money."

Peggy was quite certain that much of Angie's extended family had mafia ties. She'd asked Angie not to mention that too often. If she didn't hear anything direct or conclusive, there wasn't technically an ethical dilemma. She didn't think Angie would school Tony on her mobster relatives over Saturday breakfast, but chose to end this line of conversation. Just in case.

Clearing her throat. Peggy stepped barefoot onto the kitchen tile, relieved when Angie stopped talking, and Tony grinned up at her as if he hadn't seen her just yesterday. "Morning, love," she greeted, combing a hand through Tony's hair, then kissing the place her fingers left.

"Mornin."

Peggy chuckled, couldn't help it. A few hours together and Tony was already picking up Angie's speech patterns.

"You have to go to work today?"

"Unfortunately, yes. But I'll get home as soon as I can."

"You're the boss," Tony said, reciting his very limited description of Peggy's job. "You should have all the other people do the work, and come home early."

Angie spoke up for the first time since Peggy entered. "I tell her that too, sometimes. Then I remember that Aunt Peggy is smarter than all the dopes who work for her. Place would fall apart if she wasn't there to keep them from being stupid."

"Oh," Tony said, as if he'd never once question that Aunt Peggy was more intelligent than everyone else in the world.

Shaking her head, Peggy joined Angie at the stove. "Those 'dopes' received quite a bit of training, you know. They're highly capable employees."

"And what, they don't need you to keep them in line?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Peggy replied, flashing the smile only Angie got to see. "Morning, love," she said, repeating her words to Tony.

"Mornin to you, English."

There was a quick, mischievous grin directed her way, then Angie's lips were on hers. Angie had laughed until she cried after hearing about Peggy's conversation with Tony. Despite that talk, Peggy experienced half a second of hesitation at showing this kind of affection in front of him. And then she decided she didn't care, kissing Angie back. The contact was brief, but after it was over, both women looked to Tony for a reaction.

He didn't seem to have one. He tapped at the table with the fingers of his left hand as if nothing had happened. And, Peggy supposed, it hadn't. She'd explained things to him, he understood, so he paid them no extra attention. She looked at him and felt like crying for some reason, turning away. Crying _would _bring undue attention, and she was _not _going to be that soft in front of her loved ones at this hour of the morning.

Angie turned as well, kissing Peggy's cheek and whispering in her ear. "He's a great kid. Are we sure he belongs to Howard?"

Peggy snorted back a laugh. Then Angie was ordering her to set the table, and they sat down to breakfast, and Tony thanked Peggy for cutting up his food. They talked about nothing in particular, but Peggy couldn't imagine having better conversation with anyone. Occasionally, Angie would touch her hand where it rested on the table, hold it for a few seconds. Tony never batted an eye.

She hadn't realized how much this openness would mean until she experienced it. Angie's family, they knew what their daughter's living situation was. It was never stated flat-out, but Peggy saw it in the way Sofia Martinelli looked at her. Angie's parents weren't stupid. They knew, and they'd never once given Peggy a hard time about it, never accused her of corrupting their girl.

Didn't mean they wanted to hear the details over Sunday dinner, not that Peggy would've given them. She had an understanding with Angie's parents. If it wasn't ideal, it was more than she would've expected from most good Italian Catholics.

Angie's brothers, that was a different matter. Angie's frequent protests notwithstanding, they weren't idiots either. They knew, and they were polite when Peggy showed up in Queens. But their acceptance was a bit more grudging. And, though none were ever foolish enough to say it aloud, Peggy suspected that at least two of the four brothers worried that being around Angie would turn their own children queer. And, while Peggy would like nothing more than to punch some sense into them, she'd seen enough war, and wasn't about to start another one with Angie's family.

So she was exceedingly careful around Angie's nieces and nephews, a model of propriety. Because Angie loved those kids the way Peggy loved Tony, and she wouldn't give the Martinelli men reason to push Angie away, Mind you, if they ever did try, Peggy probably _would _d up hitting one or all of them, but she'd rather it didn't come to that.

It was just…nicer than she'd expected, not having to hide in front of Tony. If nothing else, Peggy was thankful that for all his faults, Howard wasn't an ignorant, closed-minded fool when it came to her relationship with Angie. Oh, he made lewd comments all the time; at least he had in the beginning. He asked invasive questions, and he'd gotten them a fondue set for Christmas that Peggy half-heartedly tried to injure him with.

But he also hugged her and told her he was happy for her, that she deserved anything or anyone she wanted. And years ago, before the drinking got too bad, before Tony's birth, he and Maria always found reasons to have them over for dinner. And if Angie squeezed her hand or sat a bit too close to her on the couch, Howard and Maria never said a thing.

For all the damaging lessons Howard was teaching his son, he still managed to get a few right.

Breakfast went by too fast. By the time she was dressed and ready for work, Tony was reading one of his terribly complex technical manuals, but paused long enough to hug her goodbye. Leaving him to his book, Peggy walked to the door with Angie at her side.

"What's that look?"

Peggy blinked. "Sorry?"

"You've got a look. A weird look."

"Thank you for elaborating so thoroughly." Shaking her head, Peggy thought a moment. "Nothing, really. This is all just…so terribly _domestic_."

"That a bad thing?"

"No," Peggy said, not having to think this time. "Different, yes, but not at all bad."

Angie grinned. "Good, honey. If you said anything else, I might not have had your drink and slippers ready when you get home."

Peggy made a face. Angie was doing an irritatingly good job mimicking the voices of all the sweet, subordinate housewives in all the sitcoms and films they both despised. "Are you finished?"

"Only if you want me to be, dear. Oh, is there anything special you'd like for dinner tonight? After all, you bring home the bacon, so it's my job to cook it however you want."

Caught between a laugh and a grimace, Peggy pressed a quick kiss to Angie's mouth. "I'm leaving now."

"Sure thing, honey. I'll make sure Junior behaves himself, doesn't make a racket when you get home."

"Goodbye, Angie."

* * *

That day, Peggy took career advice from a child. She didn't shirk her duties, but she delegated more than she normally would. There was a beautiful, if completely incorrigible woman waiting for her at home, and a godson who needed more attention than even her most junior of agents.

So she pulled rank and clocked out a little early. What was the point of being Director if one didn't take advantage of the perks every now and again?

When she came through the foyer and into the living room, Peggy froze, stifling the urge to turn around and leave again. Angie and Tony were on the floor together, surrounded by a mess of bolts and wires, and the corpse of what used to be a TV.

"Oh, hey Peg," Angie said, cheery as ever with her hands buried in the guts of the machine. "Didn't expect you home so soon. How was your day?"

"Thrilling. May I ask, at what point in your day did you two think it a good idea to murder the television?"

"I'm fixing it," said Tony.

"Thank you, darling. I wasn't aware it was broken."

"It still works," Tony explained, then paused. "Well, it will when I put it together again. But I can make it work better."

"I see. And should you be doing repairs with that arm of yours?" Peggy asked, already knowing the answer.

"Angie's helping me."

"Yup," said Angie. "I hand him things, I put other things back, he just points. It's kinda like clearing away the dishes back at the automat. Except I'm not on my feet all day, not getting other people's crumbs all over everything, and this one's not a jerk about tellin me what to do." Angie ruffled Tony's hair with her free hand."

"I'm glad you're so happy with your new occupation as a TV repair girl, But," Peggy tried for delicacy, not wanting Tony to be hurt or Angie to be angry, "you're certain you know what you're doing?"

Huffing out a disbelieving breath, Angie pulled something from the TV, replaced something else at Tony's direction. "No faith. No faith at all. And after everything—"

What should've been a moderately long and very dramatic monologue was cut off by a slight flash and a pained exclamation. Angie yanked her hand away from the machine, cradling it.

"Angie!" Peggy rushed forward, eyes widening.

Angie just rolled her eyes, holding up the hand in question. "Relax, Peg, no need to call the paramedics. Just a little static electricity is all."

Peggy opened her mouth to protest, but Tony spoke first.

"I'm sorry," he said, lower lip quivering as he studied the hand himself.

"Hey, hey, hey. None of that. You ain't the one who zapped me."

"But it was my idea."

"Darling," Peggy said, because he looked ready to cry from shame, and it always cut worse than any of her actual stab wounds when he cried. "It was an accident, that's all, it certainly wasn't your fault."

"But I asked her to help me."

"Yeah," said Angie, "you did. And there was a little accident, no harm done. It isn't your fault. I don't do anything I don't want to, Tony."

"She doesn't. I can vouch for that."

"Shut up, English. And Tony, let's get goin. This thing won't fix itself."

Tony stared between the two women, eventually kept his gaze on Peggy's.

"Oh very well," she said, as if she really had a choice. "Keep at it then. I have some files that need sorting in the study. I respectfully ask that neither of you electrocute yourselves while I'm gone."

"Yeah, yeah. You worry too much, Peg."

In contrast to Angie, Tony's tone and expression was quite serious. "We'll be careful, Aunt Peggy. I won't let anything happen/"

That proclamation was more reassuring than it should've been. Still, Peggy left the room questioning the wisdom of letting he and Angie meet. They played off each other much too well. Angie in particular was too good at playing _her_, getting her to agree to most anything.

She was in trouble. So, so much trouble.

It wasn't that she didn't trust them, really, it wasn't. But when Angie yelled her name from the living room, Peggy spun in her desk chair hard enough to knock it into the wall. She also searched for the scent of smoke. Or burnt flesh. Not to say she didn't trust them.

As it turned out, all that not-trusting she hadn't done was unnecessary. When she reached them, Angie and Tony were standing in the middle of the room, Angie's arm around Tony's shoulder. The TV was back together now, and turned on.

"Would you look at that picture? You ever seen reception that clear, Peg?"

Peggy, initial panic forgotten, stepped closer, admiring their handiwork. "Can't say that I have."

"Of course not. Look at this, it's like we're standin right there while Mary Tyler-Throws-Her-Hat-Around-For-No-Reason prances around like a loon."

"My thoughts exactly," Peggy drawled.

"Are you happy we fixed it?"

She would've answered Tony's question if Angie hadn't snatched him up in her arms and beat her to it.

"'Course she is," said Angie, pulling him into one of those tight, tight hugs that only came when she was terribly excited about something. "Dream team, you and I. Listen, what do you know about record players?"

"Easy, Angie. Do try not to bruise him." There was no conviction behind the words. Tony was grinning in a way that both warmed and angered her. Because no one as young and special and brilliant as Tony should be that starved for praise. "Tony's not here as a repairman, and when Maria returns, I'd rather she didn't think we used her boy as slave labor."

The moment she uttered those last words, Peggy wished she hadn't. Face falling, Tony squirmed out of Angie's arms, as he had with Peggy at the theater. He toed at the carpet in his shocks, eyes down.

He didn't want to go home. Didn't say as much, but it was written plain across his face, head bowed or not. Unable to bear that look, Peggy glanced at Angie instead. Her features were uncharacteristically hard, her fist clenched. Wordlessly, Peggy slipped her hand into Angie's, rubbing a thumb along the palm, where her nails had been digging.

Angie's breath hitched, just once. Then she squeezed Peggy's hand and used her free one to tilt Tony's chin up. "Hey, you wanna come see us again in a couple weeks?"

Tony's eyes went wide, as if she'd offered him something impossibly wonderful,

"My play opens soon. You could come if you want, sit with Peg. Then you guys can stop backstage and tell me how great I was."

Tony looked between them, a slow smile forming. "You'd want me there?"

"Well yeah. Silly question for such a smart kid."

Peggy could've hugged Angie then, but questioned her ability to let go. "Perfect idea," she said, smiling at Tony. "We'll catch opening night together. Though I'm afraid the show runs a bit late, so you'll probably have to spend the night here."

Peggy had seen the lavish parties Howard threw for his boy, parties he was too young to remember. The ridiculously extravagant gifts that came whenever Howard came out of his head enough to realize that he had a son, but hadn't been acting like it. None of it earned him the look Tony wore now.

"And don't worry about that mob of lunatics I share a stage with," said Angie. "They start hassling you, Peg will beat them up."

Bristling, Peggy squared her shoulders. "What Angie—"

"Cool Aunt Angie."

"What Angie means is that should anyone make you uncomfortable, I will calmly explain why they need to stop." Angie elbowed her lightly in the ribs. "Should that strategy fail, then yes, I will gladly beat them up."

She couldn't tell which of them grinned harder, Tony or Angie.

* * *

"Bloody wankers," she murmured. To herself, and to a universe that seemed incapable of gifting her with proper agents. She wondered why she'd bothered defending them to Angie this morning. One half day, a few hours without her an office away, and everyone forgot how to function.

She was starting to feel like Howard, constantly having to interrupt her time with Tony. Still, she smiled as she left the study after a call that lasted too long. At least Angie was there, to keep him entertained, to give attention when Peggy couldn't. To…

"What are you two doing?"

From her place on the couch, Angie shrugged and smiled, tapping lightly on a deck of cards. "You're the one with the crazy observational skills, what's it look like? Come on, Tony, what's your play?"

Tony, knelt on the floor at the other side of the coffee table, frowned at his cards. "Hit," he said terribly serious.

Peggy watched as Angie handed him a card. Her eyes then fell to the small pile of items on the table between them. A few programs from Angie's previous plays, action figures she'd taken from Tony's room. Other bits and pieces stacked atop each other that she couldn't quite see. "It looks like you're teaching a child how to gamble."

"See? Crazy observational skills still work. How was-?"

"Blackjack," Tony said quietly.

Angie's mouth fell open. "Again? Jeez."

"Angie, when I left, you two were playing chess."

"Yeah," said Angie, looking at the cards instead of Peggy. "You were gone awhile. He beat me twice, so we switched to a game I'm more familiar with. Which he's still beating me at." Angie tapped the deck more urgently, then her head snapped up, eyes locked on Tony. "Were you counting the cards?"

Tony looked confused. "Was I not supposed to?"

"No! I mean yes." Angie shook her head, displaying excitement rather than anger. "I don't actually know if it's legal or not, but most people can't do that."

Surprise mixed with the confusion. "Really? You want me to stop?" He paused. "I don't know if I can. I don't try to remember the numbers, it just happens."

"Of course it does. Listen, you ever been to Jersey?"

"No."

"Well, my cousin's half-sister's second husband owns a casino there—"

"Angie. No."

"Why? Look, it ain't about the money. I just wanna see the look on Sal's face. You remember what a jerk that guy is. His big, stupid, grease-covered head will explode when he sees what Tony can do."

"Tony is _four_ He's not entering a casino, especially one owned by your cousin's half-sister's second husband."

"I'm family, Sal won't mind. And if he does, we can pass the card shark here off as older 'til we get in the door. Don't give me that look. Remember the time you had to pass as the geriatric Russian guy with the—"

"I've asked you, repeatedly, not to mention that again."

"Sorry, Pegs, but some things are hard to forget."

"Indeed. Especially when some people insist on continually bringing them up."

"What are you talking about?" Tony asked.

"I'll tell you when you're older," Angie said. "And when Aunt Peggy's out of town."

"Oh. Okay. I wanna go to Jersey."

"See? He wants to go to Jersey."

Peggy breathed deeply, counting to five in her head. Rather than answer and give Angie more fuel, she joined them by the coffee table, examining Tony's winnings more closely. Her eyes were drawn to a burst of red, white and blue, and they narrowed upon seeing the comic book. She remembered grabbing a pile of those from Tony's dresser, but hadn't looked properly. Probably fortunate, she'd been angry enough at the time. Holding the edge of the book between two fingers, like the toxic thing it was, Peggy scowled.

Captain America with his shield, grinning in a way Steve never would've. Not while dispatching Nazis at least. And Betty Carver, off to the side in her nurse's uniform. The bubble of dialogue over her head told Cap not to worry, Betty would be there to wash his uniform when he finished. To soak out the stink of those evildoers.

Evildoers. Had anyone ever actually spoken that word aloud? And what was this Carver twit doing standing beneath a clothesline with a vapid glaze in her eye while the man with a terrible imitation of Steve's jawline fought Nazis a few feet away?

"I thought they were done with this rubbish."

Angie, very uncharacteristically, shrank down into the couch cushions. "Yeah…I meant to hide that before you came back."

"You can get rid of it," Tony said. "It's stupid, I don't like it."

Angie studied him, straightening a bit. "Never bet anything you're not prepared to lose. I didn't even get around to explaining that yet. Good job, buddy."

Trying not to scowl, Peggy dropped the offending book back on the table. "You've no idea how relieved I am that you haven't been enjoying this thing. But why have it otherwise?"

Tony shrugged. "Dad gave it to me. I kept it in with the better comics so he wouldn't get mad."

"Howard paid for this? Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant." Add that to the long list of things they'd be discussing when she brought Tony home.

"Must've pulled some strings to get a copy," Angie said. "Newsstand I passed, they were selling faster than hotcakes at the L&amp;L on discount Tuesday."

Peggy's first thought was that said discount had barely qualified as such. It wasn't the fair prices that'd kept her going back to the automat several times a day for months on end. Her second thought was more upsetting. "You knew that this Carver woman had been brought back to plague my existence?"

Angie's hand twitched in an awkward, so-so gesture. "I caught a glimpse last week. I was gonna tell you, I just wanted to wait 'til you weren't having one of your long, stressful office days."

"Angie. Love. Every day is a long, stressful office day."

"There you go. Thought by the time I found a good time to tell you, the lousy book might be cancelled already."

"Sound logic. Selling like hotcakes, you said?" Angie just sat there, putting on her apologetic face. Peggy looked away, unwillingly drawn to the ridiculous comic. "God. Is that meant to be my nose? How flattering."

"They're stupid," Tony insisted, more firmly this time. "The people who make them are too, and they don't know you, and you said I wasn't supposed to care what people like that thought of me."

Peggy smiled in spite of herself. Done in by her own words. The boy was going to be quite dangerous when he grew up, if she didn't watch him.

"And you're pretty," Tony added. "Really pretty. Everyone knows that."

Raising an eyebrow, Angie reached across the table, gifting Tony with the lightest punch to his shoulder. "Well, aren't you going to be a heartbreaker in a few years."

Tony, brilliant as he was, was also puzzled. "Huh?"

"Angie. Please don't."

"What? Like he's not gonna have the girls lining up?" Angie paused for a moment. "Girls. People in general. Whoever he wants."

"Angie."

"Right." Flashing her most winning smile, Angie stood. "You know, what time is it? My agent's supposed to call about that new script making the rounds. I should check in with him."

"No rush, love. I took the message myself, and he's not due to call for another hour. Besides, I was hoping we could discuss Tony's newfound gambling habit."

"Yeah well," Angie said, starting a slow backtrack. "Early bird catches the worm and all that. Think I'll save him the trouble. Besides, I can't take credit for the cards. He counted them himself, remember? Kids, always pulling something new. I'm gonna call Wes."

Peggy watched with fond exasperation as Angie fled the room. "Your exits are usually far more graceful than this."

The reply was slightly muffled by increasing distance. "Don't be such a critic, English, I got plenty of those already. Love you!"

Somewhere in the house, a door closed.

Silently contemplating the madwoman she'd given her heart to, Peggy took Angie's place on the sofa, settling across from Tony. That damn book with its gaudy colors and shoddy artwork kept drawing her eye. "Steve would've done so much better," she said, not realizing the words were coming until they had.

Tony shifted, leaning toward her. "Huh?"

"He liked to draw, was quite good at it. Better than he knew." Steve was always so much better than he realized, in so many ways.

"I didn't know Captain America could draw."

"It wasn't common knowledge. And Steve Rogers drew. Captain America was too busy for things like that." She doubted Tony could understand the distinction, but he didn't press her for an explanation.

"So, he could've drawn his own comics. Bet they'd be much better than this."

"They would. But Steve, he'd be embarrassed at the idea of drawing himself. He wouldn't understand why anyone would care enough to read about his adventures."

Tony seemed to puzzle over that. Then his expression changed as he squinted at Peggy.

"All right then, what is it? Bit of Angie's latest four course meal stuck in my teeth?" He laughed loudly at that. Mission accomplished. Peggy smiled, feeling rather proud of herself, but the lightness disappeared with Tony's next question.

"I heard Dad say you loved Captain America. Steve," he amended, correcting himself. "So, was the book right about that at least, you being his girlfriend?"

Peggy shut her eyes tight, just for a second. "Captain America didn't have time for a…for a girlfriend. But yes, I loved him." She knew damn well she was confusing Tony, but couldn't seem to help it.

"But…now you love Angie."

Not quite a question, that one, but close enough. "Yes, now I love Angie. Steve, he did an impossibly good, brave thing. And I still miss him every day, like your father does. But Steve did that good thing so the rest of us could go on and live our lives. He'd want us to be happy, not sad. And Angie, Angie makes me very, very happy."

Tony was quiet a moment. Then, "If that's true, if he wouldn't want us to feel bad, then why does Dad have to be so…?"

He trailed off. Peggy wasn't sure if he couldn't articulate the question, or didn't actually want the answer. She knew what he was thinking though, considered what she'd say if he ever found the courage or the words to finish his question.

She had no idea, and that scared her terribly.

And then Tony smiled at her, a look of utter contentment she didn't see enough of. "I'm glad Angie keeps you from being sad. I like her a lot."

That grin was infectious. Mouth curving, Peggy reached across the table, stroking the hair from his eyes. "I like her too. Quite a lot. But she's not the only one who keeps me from being sad." Changing her tone, Peggy made sure she had his full attention before continuing. "You're a good boy, Tony, and you're going to become a very good man. Remember that. You're not to let anyone tell you different."

She was thinking about Howard as she said that last, which was maddening and heartbreaking. She held Tony's eyes until he nodded. Two emotionally-packed proclamations in two nights was a lot for her, but she suspected there'd be plenty more if she wanted to counteract the things Tony stored in that incredible memory of his when she wasn't with him.

He fidgeted, seemed unsure how to move on from what she'd said.

Peggy tapped her fingertips together, worrying the perfectly trimmed nails. She was having the same problem. How did Angie handle these things so effortlessly? Flipping the comic so that wretched cover couldn't taunt her anymore, Peggy took up the discarded cards, reaching over to take the ones that remained in front of Tony. "So. Did Angie have time to corrupt you with anything besides blackjack while I was away?"

Tony shook his head.

"All right then. Well. Amazing as you are, Anthony, it's quite obvious when you're worrying over your cards, wondering what to do."

"But doesn't everybody have to worry about their cards sometimes?"

"Oh yes. No shame in worrying, none at all. However, it's best if people don't realize you're doing it." Tony was so bloody attentive to everything she said or did that Peggy couldn't help showing off a bit, shuffling the deck with more flicks and flourishes than absolutely necessary. He gaped in open admiration as she dealt the cards between them.

"Can you show me how to do that?"

"Of course, but only after that arm's healed up. In the meantime. Angie's a far better actress than I'll ever be, but I should be able to teach you a thing or two about maintaining a poker face."

* * *

From day one, Angie had a habit of taking over Peggy's space. Sliding in across from her at the automat when the customers weren't being especially rude or demanding, barging into her room at the Griffith and dropping onto the first piece of furniture she saw. Peggy had never minded, even when she should've, and was more than used to it by now. So when Angie entered the living room and practically threw herself into Peggy's lap, she merely adjusted her position on the couch, switched her cup of tea from one hand to the other, and wrapped her free arm around Angie. "Now you've done it," she said, ghosting a kiss through Angie's curls. "After that performance, Mr. Jarvis's bedtime stories will seem positively inadequate."

Shrugging, Angie reached over, carefully taking the teacup. "Do a job, do it right," she said, sipping the hot liquid.

"Indeed." Peggy's, lips curved as she recalled of the typical dramatic flair Angie put into her reading. It was a wonder Tony got to sleep at all. "We do have more than one cup, you know."

Angie took another long sip from the tea, then set it aside on the table, looping both arms around Peggy's neck. "The cups are in there," she said with a pout, tilting her head toward the kitchen. "It's so much more comfy here." Angie pressed closer to Peggy, tightening her grip.

"I see. My mistake, darling."

"Yes, yes it was."

"Here I thought we only had one child in the house."

Angie's response was to grumble something in Italian and trail light, lazy kisses over Peggy's throat. They were silent for a few minutes, Angie occupied with her task, Peggy running absent fingers through her hair, over her back. When Angie did speak, her breath tickled Peggy's skin. "Would Maria have told Howard where she was staying? Specifically, I mean?"

Peggy sighed, remembering Howard's words the day before, Morocco. Somewhere close to Morocco. "Maybe. It's equally possible that she was deliberately vague about her destination, so he wouldn't be able to bother her."

"But, say he does know where she is. Would he have told her about Tony?"

Another sigh. Peggy didn't need to ask where this was going. "Did Tony ask about Howard and Maria?"

"No, and I don't know if that's good or bad. I mean, even if Howard didn't have the guts to tell her—"

"A very likely scenario."

"How do you just jet off into the sunset without asking about your kid? How can neither of them even bother to call? I know you said things were bad, but hearing something and seeing it, two different things, you know?"

"I do," said Peggy, working to keep her voice from hardening. "Howard is Howard. Maria, I'm afraid he's finally started to exhaust her, and Tony's paying the price."

She remembered quite clearly getting that call at some ungodly hour of the morning, Howard telling her to clear her schedule for tomorrow night, that he was getting married and refused to do it without her and Angie there. It wasn't a complete shock, he'd been seeing Maria long enough by then. And Peggy liked the woman.

Which may've been why Howard had chosen to rush the ceremony. He went on and on about wanting to pull one over on the press, how he'd been single for long enough and it was about time he got on with things.

He also said, in that not quite joking way of his, that he'd best seal the deal before Peggy could talk Maria out of it.

She wouldn't have tried, of course. Howard looked at Maria in a way she'd never seen before, not from him. She wouldn't muck that up. Even if she did know Howard so much better than Maria did, know how much space he took up, how easy it would be for her to get swallowed up by Hurricane Stark.

"It's just rotten," Angie said. "He deserves so much better."

Angie's tone was half anger, half disbelief. Her relationship with her family wasn't perfect, but when it came down to it, Martinellis looked out for each other. She'd never understand how Tony's parents could be any different, and Peggy loved her for that. "He does."

It would be easier if Howard were completely irredeemable, if he didn't care. He did, though. She'd seen him put everything he had into loving Tony and Maria, seen him proud and tearful the day Tony was born. The problem was that with Howard it was all or nothing. He'd throw himself into caring for his family, but then something would happen. An argument with Maria, Tony wandering into his office and touching things he shouldn't. For all his surface charm and charisma, all the business deals he negotiated, he didn't know how to deal with the people who mattered. So he got frustrated and moved on to the next project, something with numbers and chemical formulas. Something simple. And once his focus went somewhere else, Tony was left with nothing. Discarded, like the rooms full of half-finished inventions Howard couldn't or hadn't bothered to puzzle out.

It wasn't bloody fair, and if Howard were anyone else…

"Hey," Angie murmured, pulling lightly on one of Peggy's curls. "Still with me, English?"

"Always, darling." It was a lie. She'd been drifting and Angie was too close, in every sense of the word, not to catch the deception.

"It's not your fault Howard's a crap dad," said Angie, looking Peggy straight in the eye.

Peggy hummed noncommittally, unsurprised by Angie's ability to read her. "No. But Tony does deserve better, and I did promise to look out for him."

"And? What do you think we're doin now?"

Peggy considered. "I'm afraid it won't be enough, not forever."

Kissing her cheek, Angie rubbed gently at the nape of Peggy's neck. "You wanna tell me now, or wait until the tea gets cold?"

Breathing out, Peggy let Angie's touch soothe away the tightness in her muscles. "I thought Howard might get better as time went on, as he got some distance from it. That the wounds would start to heal." They weren't, though. They only seemed to worsen, to fester.

"You say wounds, but you're really only talking about the big one, right? Steve?"

Peggy tensed, then made herself stop as Angie held her tighter. Habitually, she searched Angie's face for hurt, anger maybe, but didn't find it. "Yes," she said, swallowing hard.

Angie didn't say anything, just kissed her.

It was sweet and soft and gentle, and it almost hurt. When Peggy spoke about Steve Angie was unreasonably perfect. She listened, asked questions, but stayed quiet when she needed to, without Peggy having to ask.

And then there was Howard. Howard, who talked more and more about Steve as the years went on, describing people and events that Peggy didn't remember. The basics, yes, those were true. But so many of Howard's recollections were draped in fantasy. They were all square jawed and heroic, like the characters in that bloody comic. It all sounded very adventurous and romantic. Without the blood and the death and the failures. Peggy and Cap and the Commandos fighting the good fight with technical help from Howard. From him, it sounded like a grand old time. It made Peggy angry and sad, made Angie far too quiet. She hadn't argued when Peggy slowly started declining invites from Howard, skipping out on those once lovely dinners with him and Maria.

"I thought I could stop him," Peggy murmured, thinking of planes and control towers and more failures.

"Who's that, Peg?"

"Howard. When he turned that plane around in '46, I thought I'd convinced him to stop destroying himself over Steve. When he and Mr. Jarvis landed, I hoped that what I said would be enough to bring him back for good. Embarrassingly naïve, looking back on it."

Angie used both hands to frame Peggy's face, forcing eye contact. "It wasn't naïve to want him to be okay. And it's not your fault that he isn't. Howard makes his own choices, Peg, and I know you love him more than you'll ever admit, but you're not responsible for them."

Dropping a kiss to Angie's forehead, Peggy smiled against her skin. "You're quite brilliant, you know."

"Yeah, I do. Feel free to keep mentioning it any time though."

"Have I ever missed an opportunity for that?"

"Good point."

Again, being with Angie like this almost hurt. Because it was too easy to picture herself in Howard's shoes, still wallowing in loss and past mistakes. It was Angie who saved her from that.

"We'll take care of Tony," Angie said. "And not just tomorrow. I really like that kid, and you know how I am about people I really like."

"Frighteningly relentless?"

"You gonna complain about it? We'll make sure he's okay, Peg. Promise. Starting tomorrow. We'll take him to the movies or something."

"Sounds wonderful, darling."

"I should teach him some Italian, too. Since he'll be visiting more often."

Peggy made a face. "You will not teach that boy how to curse in another language."

"You're no fun. See, that's why I'm Cool Aunt—"

"You can stop now."

"I'm just saying."

"I'm very well aware of what you're saying."

"If you want to be the fun one, you're gonna have to put some work in. I mean, all the kids in my family love me the best, so it's pretty much a lost cause, but you can try."

"Uh-huh."

So much trouble. Angie and Tony would cause her so, so much trouble.

Peggy tried and failed to suppress a grin.


End file.
